Ex Factor
by deadtodd
Summary: Perhaps it was time to let go.


**Grimmy:** _So, here I am again. Being irresponsible and shirking my duties to update. I could make up an excuse as to why but I think I'll just go ahead and tell you the main reason as to why. Boys might want to cover your eyes. I've fallen victim to that bitch who likes to visit once a month and I'm not talking about an aunt. Three guesses. _

_In response, I simply feel lazy and rather moody. Yesterday all I could write was humor and now I'm writing something a bit more personal. I think that at least once in our lives we'll know or know about someone who's been in a bad situation involving relationships. Whether it's mental or physical abuse, in this case mental, it's still very upsetting. And while I've never been the one to get pushed around I have been in a few bad relationships. Although, I must say this fic doesn't spawn from the traditional relationship. It's more or less based off the one I sometimes have with my family. They do stupid shit and hurt me, I wanna leave, they don't let me. It repeats._

_That's why the song Ex Factor by Lauren Hill fits this so perfectly. It's a story of that type of relationship only lyrically and I've gone ahead and twisted and turned that into a fic for you all. I'm in a bit of a funk at the moment so I didn't really proofread it. Hell, towards the end I actually got a bit lazy so it's not really up to the standards I set in the beginning. Buuuut with any luck you all will like it anyways._

_So, I say to you all, I don't own Hey Arnold!_

It was times like these that Rhonda wished she could flee to the _en suite_ shower and scrub every part of her body with her overpriced, pomegranate scented body wash. Her skin felt dirty and sticky and hours later she still felt as if she were sweating. Had it been a normal night she would have dropped off to sleep long before midnight but tonight simply wasn't the case. Two in the morning and she was still staring the smoothly polished surface of the bedroom ceiling.

There was a loud snore next to her before a heavy arm settled on her flat tummy. She flinched for a moment before realizing that it was just him, always just him. Slowly, her muscles relaxed and she regained control of her breathing. Too afraid to actually move, she watched him out of the corner of her eye, wondering just how she wound up here.

And the story of her life flashed before her eyes.

A few tears, salty and hot, rolled down the side of her face only to disappear behind her dark messy hair. It was all her fault in the first place. She was always the one pursuing this relationship, ever since the fourth grade, and now that she had it, she saw that it wasn't nearly all she thought it would be. That was far from the truth.

She thought that she was attracted to his attitude, completely different from her own, that was composed of being messy and a complete and total barbarian. And once they actually got older, he matured, barely, in more ways than one. No longer was he the obtuse fat boy with the bad teeth. He became a member on sports teams and an all around likable guy when it came to the ladies.

But she went after him first, before all of those other floozies and she would have been damned to lose him to some busty blockhead.

If she'd never made all those attempts to get his attention she wouldn't have been in this mess and he would be off with that busty slut. Not that he wasn't off doing what he pleased anyways. He'd made it big with the NFL after high school, one of the lucky people to be drafted, and he was always on the road.

It was only natural that she insisted that it could work out long distance. She wasn't able to travel with him, being in college and majoring in fashion conflicted severely with that idea. So she gave him something special of hers and promised to call him every other day. That is until she fell victim to her insecurities as a woman in general when he stopped picking up whenever she called. Sure, there were times when she actually did catch him for a few minutes on the phone, but he was 'busy', always busy.

Busy with those other girls, she knew it to be true. And despite that she stood by him, simply because he promised her that he was being faithful. Because there were actually times he'd call him in the middle of the night, drunk out of his mind and sobbing to her on the phone. He'd tell her he missed her, that he loved her, and that he only wanted her. She ate it up.

That seemed to happen not too long before she finally made up her mind to leave him. It always happened then. She wished that she could go back in time and just end it the first time she'd planned on doing so. If she had, she wouldn't be here with him, naked as the day she was born and craving a basket of chili cheese fries with ranch dressing.

She wouldn't be having these cravings at all if it wasn't for him.

As soon as she finished her final year of college he filled her with promises of settling down with her and having a family of their own. 'Next season is the last one for sure, baby,' had been his excuse for the past five years. And now they would be having a family whether he wanted to or not. She still had yet to tell him about her recent discovery but she was sure he'd be livid. The main reason being that once she told him she was planning on leaving him for good.

His large calloused hand ran up her side absentmindedly as he muttered the name Bailey in his sleep. She felt guilty that his action, even if it was accompanied by the name of some woman she'd never even heard of, still made her insides squirm in joy. And a few more tears were added to her dark hair. Her heart thumped painfully and she could feel her throat tightening. It was rather uncomfortable since she felt like puking at the moment and she had to wonder if she could actually vomit when her throat was constricting.

She gaged before pushing herself away from the large arm and running off to the bathroom the empty her stomach of last night's dinner.

"Babe, you okay?"

Rhonda groaned and sat down next to the toilet, pulling the string that would wash away the bit of food she managed to discard. She heard the question being repeated, this time less sleepily, and the sounds of the queen sized canopy bed creaking told her that the person still residing in it was probably coming to check on her. She cupped her face in her hands when she realized that her heart was still melting for this guy.

"Fine, Harold. I'm fine," she forced herself to say. She rubbed her eyes quickly, ridding them of all unshed tears when she realized that he probably wasn't going to leave it at just that. Curling her legs to her chest, she wished she had at least snagged a robe or some clothes on the way. The tile floor was cold against her butt and she hated for him to see her like this. Defeated, dirty, and naked in front of a bright light.

He appeared in the bathroom doorway and flashed her a mildly concerned look. "You don't look okay," he said, stating the obvious. He reached down and pulled her to her feet.

She scowled at the much larger man, damning him for even waking up in the first place. But like always, he didn't seem to notice her hostile attitude and that made her even angrier. She snatched her arm away from him and went back into the bedroom and slipped into her designer pink terry cloth robe, picking up a few of her clothes soon after.

"Wha'cha doin'?" he questioned, watching her with an amused expression.

Rhonda began to blink rapidly as she pulled on her fluffy slippers and picked up her stiletto heels. She looked back at him, a frown marring her aristocratic features. "I think that much would be obvious," she quipped. She had to get out of there before she lost her nerve.

"You're leaving? In that?"

She nodded at him and added, "For good Harold. And I'm keeping my baby-"

"What baby?" he asked, completely interrupting her.

Rhonda looked away from him, incapable of answering. But she could tell from his frustrated growl that he was putting two and two together.

"You're pregnant?"

She made sure she had a good hold on her things and walked quickly to the door, desperate to escape his presence. That was something she intended on telling him once she figured out just where she was headed, preferably over the phone or through text messaging, as tacky as it was. She just didn't want to have to be there when he found out. "It doesn't matter, I'm leaving."

But before she could finish twisting the door handle he'd appeared in front of her, a panicked, almost crazed, look on his face. "You, can't! What the hell are you talking about Rhonda? You can't have that thing and leave me!"

She flinched away from him when he grabbed her arms tightly, wincing a bit from the pressure. "I-I can't stay. This isn't what I want for the baby, which in case you didn't know, is most certainly not a thing. A father who is always off with some other woman?"

"Dammit Rhonda! I told you that I didn't- That's a load of bullshit and you know it." He took a step forward, causing her to take a step back on impulse. "You don't want it. You'll get fat and ugly. Then who'll take care of you? You _need_ me." His expression changed from anger to one of pleading and she felt her reason falter. She looked away from him completely.

"If memory serves correctly, you wanted a family," she muttered.

"When this season is over, babe!"

And that bit of dialog was all it took for her to regain the ferocity she'd shown only seconds ago. "It's been this season forever! I'm sick of it! Now move," she said as she pushed him away from the door as hard as she could. She took her chance and opened it wide, stepping out into the hallway. She could hear glass breaking in the distance but didn't stop walking.

"Do you see! Do you see what you do to me!"

Rhonda made the mistake of looking back at Harold, only to see his fists covered in blood and bits of glass in the hallway. She had to bite into her lip just to resist the urge to run back to him. "Why," she croaked, "do you always have to do this to me?" And this time she couldn't blink away her tears.

People begun to poke their heads out of their own hotel rooms to see what the ruckus was all about. Standing there in nothing more than a robe, holding a pile of skimpy clothes, stripper heels, and her unmentionables, she realized that she'd never felt so ashamed in her life. He was screaming something incoherent at her but she understood his message clearly. It was something he did when he threw his tantrums about her wanting to leave. He was trying to bully her into staying.

With a high pitched sob, Rhonda turned on her heels and fled the scene, the hotel in general. And only when she made it a few blocks down the street did she realize that she had her cell phone. She dialed a number that she'd become very familiar with over the past few months. Even though it was late in the night, she knew he'd pick up for her. He always made time for her.

While it rang she wondered just why she didn't love him instead of the man who'd been giving her the cold shoulder in favor of his career.

"Hello?" The voice that answered sounded exhausted but still excited.

A small smile bloomed on her lips as she said, "Thad, I'm in front of Slausen's. Could you... Could you come and pick me up?"

"Anytime."

**Grimmy:** _Three guesses as to who Thad is. Here's a clue, it's Curly. So in a way this is for both the CurlyxRhonda and the HaroldxRhonda fans. :D Yeeey, everybody be happy. Although I actually cried for some odd reason while writing this. Oh wellz. Well I really don't have anything else to say, blame it on the bad mood, so I'll leave it here. Good day and feel free to review~_


End file.
